


speak to me, do not play the tyrant

by fallenidol_453



Category: István a király - Szörényi/Bródy/Bródy & Boldizsár
Genre: Domestic Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, International Fanworks Day 2021, Mentions of Animal Sacrifice, Religious Conflict, do not repost to another site, mentions of animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenidol_453/pseuds/fallenidol_453
Summary: “Father, I had a vision,” she whispers. “A vision about you.”Koppány finally seems to wake up at that, and he looks directly in her eyes.“What… did you dream, Réka?” he muttered.Your death, she almost said.
Kudos: 2





	speak to me, do not play the tyrant

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the musical István a király; all rights go to Boldizsár Miklós, Bródy János, and Szörényi Levente.
> 
> The fic title is taken from the book As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann. Actual fic inspiration comes from a very... uncomfortable staging of the song Elkésett a békevágy by Vadkerti Imre and Herczeg Flóra that I found on Youtube one night.

It had been a long time since Réka had dreamed this deeply.

She soared through the sky like the great Turul bird, the wind whipping through her hair as the land below raced past her. As she flies, the winds begin to pick up, buffeting her wildly until she’s forced to land in a field covered in slain bodies. Far in the distance, she sees a structure that seems to call out to her, and she begins to walk toward it.

The bodies gradually disappear as she walks, giving way to green grass and wildflowers. The closer she gets to the structure, the more she realizes it’s not one giant building. It is four great castles that are so tall they touch the clouds, and so closely built together they look like they are fused. When she walks up to the side of one of them, she discovers she is not alone.

“Father!”

Koppány stands on the roof of the castle, looking out into the distance. He doesn’t seem to hear her as… three more of him appear, each standing upon their own castle. What was the meaning of this?

“ _Father!_ ”

The Koppánys all unsheathe a sword and hold it aloft victoriously. The sky begins to blacken ominously as blood rains down upon Réka. She screams and covers her face, and hears more screams echo her. She turns around.

Countless women and girls have appeared among the slain bodies. They cradle the dead men in their arms, screaming their grief and outrage to the sky. Orphaned children run wild, confused and scared. Réka runs from her father, trying to reach the women and girls to give them some scrap of comfort.

But no matter how hard or fast she runs, the women and girls get farther away. The bloodied blackened grass makes running treacherous, and the dead men try to stop her. They grab at her ankles and her skirts, echoing the keening of the women and girls as the bloody rain increases in intensity—

&

Réka awoke with a startled cry, her limbs flailing and tangling in her blanket. Her heart hammered in her chest as she heaved a couple of strangled breaths and tried to calm down. After a few more tries, her breathing became more even, but still her heart beat strongly.

She hadn’t had a vision in years—not since her secret conversion to Christianity. They had stopped after she began praying to God. Why was she having one now? Was He trying to warn her about the upcoming war? Was it a warning about her father? She uttered a quick prayer, then another while clutching her cross in her fingers, but found no answer.

A heavy weight formed in her gut. How would her father react if she told him what she dreamt? She doubted he’d listen to her.

And yet—she was crawling out of bed and changing out of her sweaty clothing for new ones. She walked outside, the cool grass poking at her bare feet. She must have been the only person who stayed behind tonight as a sacrifice was prepared for the upcoming battle against István’s army. The heavy weight in her stomach seems to ease a little as she makes her way to the sacrifice site, but it doesn’t disappear entirely.

Koppány had barely given lip service to her visions once they both learned they would barely help him, but Réka had once overheard Torda lamenting what a good táltos she would have made. But despite her gift of foresight, she did not qualify to be one. There were no abnormalities when she was born—she had no caul covering her face, no extra limbs, no teeth already in her gums—and there had been no indication that she had been chosen by the gods by the age of seven.

She can see the sacrifice site long before coming upon it: a ring of torches, bonfires, and the sacrifice itself. Most of her father’s followers are still here, collapsed in the grass from their worship to Hadúr. Réka tiptoes around them, not looking at the dead horse nearby. The white stallion had been the pride of the herd, and the flickering light from the fires highlight its bloodied neck and the clean cut upon its throat. It pained her to see its life reduced to being a sacrifice to a god whose pantheon she no longer worshipped.

She soon finds her stepmothers, barely upright but cuddled together like a basket of puppies. Their hair is loose and covered in leaves and grass, and they do not notice her as they giggle at something. But in finding them, she finds her father. Koppány sits alone against a tall tree a good distance away from everyone, his proud head bowed. Réka kicks away a hand that has groped her ankle and hurries to him.

Koppány doesn’t react to her approach, though he stirs a little when she pats his broad shoulder gently.

“Papa.”

A heavy wheezing breath is his response. Réka puts her hands on him and shakes him hard.

“ _Father!_ ”

Now Koppány wakes, looking at her with bloodshot eyes. His gaze is unfocused and doesn’t meet hers. Réka can smell whatever hallucinogenic drink Torda gave him on his breath, and she wrinkles her nose.

“Father, I had a vision,” she whispers. “A vision about you.”

Koppány finally seems to wake up at that, and he looks directly in her eyes.

“What… did you dream, Réka?” he muttered.

 _Your death_ , she almost said.

“I saw you standing on four tall castles against a blackened sky,” she began. Her throat was painfully dry as she swallowed. “There were orphans on the bloodied ground—”

“A good vision. A vision of victory when we cast the Christians out of Hungary—” Koppány interrupted.

“ _No!_ ” Réka exclaimed.

“No?” Koppány whispered dangerously.

That should have been a warning, that she was treading into dangerous waters and risking her father’s wrath. She found the courage to keep speaking anyway.

“Your war with István will kill thousands if you continue the path you’re on. _Please_ put your pride aside and make peace with him—”

Koppány lashed out and grabbed at her, his hands gripping the back of her head and her jaw with such force that she sputtered and gasped with pain. She tried to wrench free, but he would not let go.

“It’s too late for peace! István is already preparing his army to fight me!” he shouted. He shook Réka violently. “I will not let our people fall under the power of those _priests_ , who call us sinners because we don’t worship the God of the Christian conquerors!”

Réka whimpered as his fingers tangled and pulled at her hair. Tears streamed down her face from the pain of it, as she slaps at him and rakes his skin with her nails to force him to unhand her. He won’t listen— _won’t listen_ —

“I fight to protect our freedom, Réka. Hungary will not become a Christian country while I still live,” Koppány snarled. Réka gasped as his grip finally slackened. “Our path is set, and nothing can change it!”

As soon as her father stopped shouting, Réka wrenched herself free and scrambled away from him. His anger has made him delusional and short-sighted. She sniveled as she wiped her throbbing face with her skirt. István was going to bring peace to the country – why couldn’t her father see that? Why must he be blind to the truth?

“Réka?” Koppány whispered. He reaches out for her again and she tries to not flinch. “Help me—"

She looked at him. With his blustering anger gone, he looks more like a tired old man than the proud chieftain of thousands. She wipes away the last of her tears and goes to help him up, pulling him to his feet and letting him lean heavily on her shoulder. After a few awkward minutes of Koppány getting his bearings, Réka helped him walk back towards his people.

Would he remember this conversation in the morning? Or will it disappear behind the blackout caused by the potion he consumed?

Whether he did or not, she was going to try to pray for him regardless. Pray to God to lift the anger from his heart and let him see clearly. To see how his war would bring his people to ruin.

She wasn’t sure if God would listen to her prayers for peace, when there was no doubt others were praying to Him for victory in battle. But she had to try. Her faith was the only thing anchoring her in these trying times.

**Author's Note:**

> A táltos is similar to a shaman. The abnormalities listed in the story (caul, neonatal teeth, extra limbs, etc) were hallmarks of children being chosen by the gods to become a táltos. Hadúr is a god of fire and war, to whom a white stallion is sacrificed to before battle.
> 
> and I don't think it's ever explicitly mentioned in the musical if Réka had foresight, but I'm giving it to her in this fic anyway because I can and it suited the story (งツ)ง


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